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THE BIRDS’ CHRISTMAS CAROL. 




CONTENTS, 


Pack. 

A Little Snow Bikd, ........ 9 

II. 

Deoopikg Wings, ......... 1G 

III. 

The Birds’ Nest, ......... 21 

IV. 

“Birds of a Feather Flock Together," .... 28 

V. 

Some Other Birds are Taught to Fly, .... 38 

VI. 

“ When the Pie was Opened, ^ 

The Birds Began to Sing!’’J 

VII. 

The Birdling Flies Away, ....... 63 



The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


I. 

A LITTLE SNOW BIRD. 

T was very early Christmas morning, and in 
the stillness of the dawn, with the soft snow 
falling on the housetops, a little child Avas 
bom in the Bird household. 

They had intended to name the baby Lucy, if it Avere 
a girl; but they hadn’t expected her on Christmas 
morning, and a real Christmas baby Avas not to be 
lightly named — the whole family agreed in that. 

They were consulting about it in the nursery. Mr. 
Bird said that he had assisted in naming the three 
boys, and that he should leave this matter entirely to 
Mrs. Bird; Donald Avanted the child called ^‘Maud,” 
after a pretty little curly-haired girl Avho sat next 
him in school; Paul chose “Luella,”for Luella Avas 
the nurse who had been Avith him during his whole 



10 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


babyliood, up to the time of his first trousers, and the 
name suggested all sorts of comfortable thintrs. Uncle 
Jack said that the first girl should always be named for 
her mother, no matter how hideous the name happened 
to be. 

Grandma said that she would prefer not to take any 
part in the discussion, and everybody suddenly remem- 
bered that Mrs. Bird had thought of naming the baby 
Lucy, for Grandma herself; and, while it Avould be 
indelicate for her to favor that name, it would be 
against human nature for her to suggest any other, 
under the circumstances. 

Hugh, the “hitherto baby,” if that is a possible 
term, sat in one corner and said nothing, but felt, in 
some mysterious way, that his nose was out of joint; 
for there was a newer baby now, a possibility he had 
never taken into consideration; and the “first girl,” 
too, a still higher development of treason, which made 
him actually green with jealousy. 

But it was too profound a subject to be settled then 
and there, on the spot; besides. Mama had not been 
asked, and everybody felt it rather absurd, after all, 
to forestall a decree that was certain to be absolutely 
wise, just and perfect. 


The Bihds’ Christmas Carol. 


11 


The reason that the subject had been brought up at 
all so early in the day lay in the fact that Mrs. Bird 
never allowed her babies to go over night unnamed. 
She was a person of so great decision of character that 
she would have blushed at such a thing; she said that 
to let blessed babies go dangl’ng and dawdling about 
without names, for months and months, was enough to 
ruin them for life. She also said that if one could not 
make up one’s mind in twenty-four hours it was a sign 
that — but I will not repeat the rest, as it might preju- 
dice you against the most charming woman in the 
world. 

So Donald took his new velocipede and went out to 
ride up and down the stone pavement and notch the 
shins of innocent people as they passed by, while Paul 
spun his musical top on the front steps. 

But Hugh refused to leave the scene of action. He 
seated himself on the top stair in the hall, banged his 
head against the railing a few times, just by way of 
uncorking the vials of his wrath, and then subsided 
into gloomy silence, waiting to declare war if more 
‘‘first girl babies” were thrust upon a family already 
surfeited with that unnecessary article. 

Meanwhile dear Mrs. Bird lay in her room^ weak, but 


12 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


safe and happy with her sweet girl baby by her side 
and the heaven of motherhood opening before her. 
Nurse was making gruel in the kitchen, and the room 
was dim and quiet. There was a cheerful open fire 
in the grate, but though the shutters were closed, the 
side windows that looked out on the Church of our 
Saviour, next door, were wide open. 

Suddenly a sound of music poured out into the bright 
air and drifted into the chamber. It was the boy-choir 
singing Christmas anthems. Higher and higher rose 
the clear, fresh voices, full of hope and cheer, as chil- 
dren’s voices always are. Fuller and fuller grew the 
burst of melody as one glad strain fell upon another in 
joyful harmony: 

“ Carol, brothers, carol, 

Carol joyfully, 

Carol the good tidings, 

Carol merrily! 

And pray a gladsome Christmas 
For all your fellow-men; 

Carol, brothers, carol, 

Christmas Day again.” 

One verse followed another always with the same 
glad refrain : 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


13 


‘And pray a gladsome Christmas 
For all your fellow-men: 

Carol, brothers, carol, 

Christmas Day again.” 

Mrs. Bird thought, as the music floated in upon her 
gentle sleep, that she had slipped into heaven with her 
new baby, and that the angels were bidding them wel- 
come. But the tiny bundle by her side stirred a little, 
and though it was scarcely more than the ruffling of a 
feather, she awoke; for the mother-ear is so close to the 
heart that it can hear the faintest whisper of a child. 

She opened her eyes and drew the baby closer. It 
looked like a rose dipped in milk, she thought, this 
pink and white blossom of girlhood, or like a pink 
cherub, with its halo of pale yellow hair, finer than 
floss silk. 

” Carol, brothers, carol, 

Carol joyfully, 

Carol the good tidings, 

Carol merrily! ” 

The voices were brimming over with joy. 

‘‘ Why, my baby,” whispered Mrs. Bird in soft sur- 
prise, ‘‘I had forgotten what day it was. You are a 
little Christmas child, and we will name you ‘ Carol ’ — 
mother’s little Christmas Carol ! ” 


14 


The Bieds’ Christmas Carol. 


“ What ! ” said Mr. Bird, coming in softly and closing 
the door behind him. 

“Why, Donald, don’t you think ‘Carol’ is a sweet 
name for a Christmas baby? It came to me just a 
moment ago in the singing as I was lying here half 
asleep and half awake.” 

“ I think it is a charming name, dear heart, and that 
it sounds just like you, and I hope that, being a girl, 
this baby has some chance of being as lovely as her 
mother,” at which speech from the baby’s papa, Mrs. 
Bird, though she Avas as weak and tired as she could 
be, blushed with happiness. 

And so Carol came by her name. 

Of course, it was thought foolish by many people, 
though Uncle Jack declared laughingly that it was very 
strange if a whole family of Birds could not be indulged 
in a single Carol; and Grandma, who adored the child, 
thought the name much more appropriate than Lucy, 
but w^as glad that people would probably think it short 
for Caroline. 

Perhaps because she was born in holiday time, Carol 
was a very happy baby. Of course, she Avas too tiny 
to understand the joy of Christmas-tide, but people say 
there is everything in a good beginning, and she may 


The Bieds’ Christmas Carol. 


15 


have breathecl-in unconsciously the fragrance of ever- 
greens and holiday dinners; while the peals of sleigh- 
bells and the laughter of happy children may have 
fallen upon her baby ears and wakened in them a glad 
surprise at the merry world she had come to live in. 

Her cheeks and lips were as red as holly berries; 
her hair was for all the world the color of a Christmas 
candle-flame; her eyes were bright as stars; her laugh 
like a chime of Christmas bells, and her tiny hands 
forever outstretched in giving. 

Such a generous little creature you never saw! A 
spoonful of bread and milk had always to be taken by 
Mama or nurse before Carol could enjoy her supper; 
and whatever bit of cake or sweetmeat found its way 
into her pretty Angers, it was straightway broken in 
half and shared with Donald, Paul or Hugh; and, when 
they made believe nibble the morsel with affected 
enjoyment, she would clap her hands and crow with 
delight. ‘‘Why does she do it?” asked Donald, 
thoughtfully; “None of us boys ever did.” “I hardly 
know,” said Mama, catching her darling to her heart, 

‘ ‘ except that she is a little Christmas child, and so she 
has a tiny share of the blessedest birthday the world 
ever saw ! ” 


t 


II. 

DEOOPING Y/INGS. 

T was December, ten years later. Carol bad 
seen nine Christmas trees lighted on her 
birthdays, one after another; nine times she 
had assisted in the holiday festivities of the household, 
though in her babyhood her share of the gayeties was 
somewhat limited. 

For five years, certainly, she had hidden presents for 
Mama and Papa in their own bureau drawers, and har- 
bored a number of secrets sufficiently large to burst 
a baby’s brain, had it not been for the relief gained by 
whispering them all to Mama, at night, when she was 
in her crib, a proceeding which did not in the least 
lessen the value of a secret in her innocent mind. 

For five years she had heard ’Twas the night before 
Christmas,” and hung up a scarlet stocking many sizes 
too large for her, and pinned a sprig of holly on her 
little white night gown, to show Santa Claus that she 
was a truly’' Christmas child, and dreamed of fur- 



The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 17 

coated saints and toy-packs and reindeer, and wished 
everybody a “ Merry Christmas ” before it was light in 
the morning, and lent every one of her new toys to the 
neighbors’ children before noon, and eaten turkey and 
plum pudding, and gone to bed at night in a trance of 
happiness at the day’s pleasures. 

Donald was away at college now. Paul and Hugh 
were great manly fellows, taller than their nlother. 
Papa Bird had grey hairs in his whiskers; and Grand- 
ma, God bless her, had been four Christmases in 
heaven. But Christmas in the Birds’ Nest was scarcely 
as merry now as it used to be in the bygone years, for 
the little child that once brought such an added bless- 
ing to the day, lay, month after month, a patient, help- 
less invalid, in the room where she was born. 

She had never been very strong in body, and it was 
with a pang of terror her mother and father noticed, 
soon after she was fiye years old, that she began to 
limp, ever so slightly; to complain too often of weari- 
ness, and to nestle close to her mother, saying she 
‘‘would rather not go out to play, please.” The illness 
was slight at first, and hope was always stirring in Mrs. 
Bird’s heart. “ Carol would feel stronger in the sum- 
mer-time;” or, “She would be better when she had 


18 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


spent a year in tlie country;” or, “ Slie would outgrow 
it;” or, “They would try a new physician;” but by and 
by it came to be all too sure that no physician save 
One could make Carol strong again, and that no 
“summer-time” nor “country air,” unless it were the 
everlasting summer-time in a heavenly country, could 
bring back the little girl to health. 

The cheeks and lips that were once as red as holly- 
berries faded to faint pink; the star-like eyes grew 
softer, for they often gleamed through tears; and the 
gay child-laugh, that had been like a chime of Christ- 
mas bells, gave place to a smile so lovely, so touching, 
so tender and patient, that it filled every corner of 
the house with a gentle radiance that might have come 
from the face of the Christ-child himself. 

Love could do nothing; and when we have said that 
we have said all, for it is stronger than anything else 
in the whole wide world. Mr. and Mrs. Bird were 
talking it over one evening when all the children were 
asleep. A famous physician had visited them that 
day, and told them that sometime, it might be in one 
year, it might be in more, Carol would slip quietly off 
into heaven, whence she came. 

‘‘Dear heart,” said Mr. Bird, pacing up and down 


The Bikds’ Ci-ikistmas Carol. 


19 


tlie library floor, ‘ ‘ it is no use to sbut our eyes to it 
any longer; Carol will never be well again. It almost 
seems as if I could not bear it when I think of that 
loveliest child doomed to lie there day after day, and, 
what is still more, to sutler pain that we are helpless 
to keep away from her. Merry Christmas, indeed; it 
gets to be the saddest day in the year to me !” and poor 
Mr. Bird sank into a chair by the table, and buried his 
face in his hands, to keep his wife from seeing the tears 
that would come in spite of all his efforts. ‘‘But, 
Donald, dear,” said sweet Mrs. Bird, with trembling 
voice, “ Christmas day may not be so merry with us as 
it used, but it is very happy, and that is better, and 
very blessed, and that is better yet. I suffer chiefly 
for Carol’s sake, but I have almost given up being 
sorrowful for my own. I am too happy in the child, 
and I see too clearly what she has done for us and for 
our boys.” 

“That’s true, bless her sweet heart,” said Mr. Bird; 
‘ ‘ she has been better than a daily sermon in the house 
ever since she was born, and especially since she was 
taken ill.” 

“ Yes, Donald and Paul a'nd Hugh were three strong, 
willful, boisterous boys, but you seldom see such tender- 


20 


The Bieds’ Christmas Carol. 


ness, devotion, thought for others and self-denial in 
lads of their years. A quarrel or a hot word is almost 
unknown in this house. Why ? Carol would hear it, 
and it would distress her, she is so full of love and 
goodness. The boys study with all their might and 
main. Why? Partly, at least, because they like to 
teach Carol, and amuse her by telling her what they 
read. When the seamstress comes, she likes to sew in 
Miss Carol’s room, because there she forgets her own 
troubles, which, Heaven knows, are sore enough! 
And as for me, Donald, I am a better woman every 
day for Carol’s sake; I have to be her eyes, ears, feet, 
hands — her strength, her hope ; and she, my own little 
child, is my example I ” 

“I was wrong, dear heart,” said Mr. Bird more cheer- 
fully; ‘Svewill try not to repine, but to rejoice instead, 
that we have an ‘ angel of the house’ like Carol.” 

“And as for her future,” Mrs. Bird went on, “I 
think we need not be over-anxious. I feel as if she 
did not belong altogether to us, and when she has 
done what God sent her for. He will take her back 
to Himself — and it may not be very long ! ” Here it 
was poor Mrs. Bird’s turn to break down, and Mr. 
Bird’s turn to comfort her. 


III. 

THE bird’s nest. 


herself knew nothing of motherly tears 
and fatherly anxieties; she lived on peace- 
fully in the room where she was born. 

But you never would have known that room; for Mr. 
Bird had a great deal of money, and though he felt 
sometimes as if he wanted to throw it all in the ocean, 
since it could not buy a strong body for his little girl, 
yet he was glad to make the place she lived in just as 
beautiful as it could be made. 

The room had been extended by the building of a 
large addition that hung out over the garden below, 
and was so filled with windows that it might have been 
a conservatory. The ones on the side were thus still 
nearer the little Church of our Saviour than they used 
to be ; those in front looked out on the beautiful har- 
bor, and those in the back commanded a view of noth- 
ing in particular but a little alley — nevertheless, they 
were pleasantest of all to Carol, for the Buggies family 


22 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


lived in the alley, and the nine little, middle-sized and 
big Buggies children were the source of inexhaustible 
interest. 

The shutters could all be opened and Carol could 
take a real sun-bath in this lovely glass-house, or they 
could all be closed when the dear head ached or the 
dear eyes were tired. The carpet was of soft grey, 
with clusters of green bay and holly leaves. The fur- 
niture was of white wood, on which an artist had painted 
snow scenes and Christmas trees and groups of merry 
children ringing bells and singing carols. 

Donald had made a pretty, polished shelf and screwed 
it on to the outside of the footboard, and the boys 
always kept this full of blooming plants, which they 
changed from time to time; the head-board, too, had a 
bracket on either side, where there were pots of maiden- 
hair ferns. 

Love-birds and canaries hung in their golden houses 
in the windows, and they, poor caged things, could 
hop as far from their wooden perches as Carol could 
venture from her little white bed. 

On one side of the room was a bookcase filled with 
hundreds — ^yes, I mean it — with hundreds and hun- 
dreds of books; books with gay-colored pictures, books 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


23 


witliout; books with black and white outline-sketches, 
books with none at all; books with verses, books with 
stories , books that made children laugh, and some that 
made them cry; books with words of one syllable for 
tiny boys and girls, and books with words of fearful 
length to puzzle wise ones. 

This was Carol’s ‘‘Circulating Library.” Every 
Saturday she chose ten books, jotting their names 
down in a little diary; into these she slipped cards that 
said: “Please keep this book two weeks and read it. 
With love, Carol Bird.” 

Then Mrs. Bird stepped into her carriage, and took 
the ten books to the Childrens’ Hospital, and brought 
home ten others that she had left there the fortnight 
before. 

This was a source of great happiness ; for some of the 
Hospital children that were old enough to print or 
WTite, and were strong enough to do it, wrote Carol 
cunning little letters about the books, and she answered 
them, and they grew to be friends. (It is very funny, 
but you do not always have to see people to love them 
Just think about it, and see if it isn’t so.) 

There was a high wainscoting of wood about the 
room, and on top of this, in a narrow gilt framework. 


24 The Bikds" Chkistmas Carol. 

ran a row of illuminated pictures, illustrating fairy 
tales, all in dull blue and gold and scarlet and silver 
and other lovely colors. From the door to the closet 
there was the story of ^‘The Fair One with Golden 
Locks;” from closet to bookcase, ran “Puss in Boots;” 
from bookcase to fireplace, was “Jack the Giant-killer;” 
and on the other side of the room were “Hop o’ my 
Thumb,” “The Sleeping Beauty,” and “Cinderella.” 

Then there was a great closet full of beautiful things 
to wear — but they were all dressing-gowns and slippers 
and shawls; and there were drawers full of toys and 
games; but they were such as you could play with on 
your lap. There were no ninepins, nor balls, nor bows 
and arrows, nor bean bags, nor tennis rackets; but, 
after all, other children needed these more than Carol 
Bird, for she was always happy aad contented whatever 
she had or whatever she lacked; and after the room 
had been made so lovely for her, on her eighth Christ- 
mas, she always called herself, in fun, a “Bird of 
Paradise.” 

On these particular December days she was happier 
than usual, for Uncle Jack was coming from Europe to 
spend the holidays. Dear, funny, jolly, loving, wise 
Uncle Jack, who came every two or three years, and 


The Bihds’ Christmas Carol. 


25 


brought so much joy with him that the world looked as 
black as a thunder-cloud for a week after he went away 
again. 

The mail had brought this letter : — 

“London, Nov. 28tli, 188 — . 

Wish you merry Christmas, you clearest birdlings in America! 
Preen your feathers, and stretch the Birds’ nest a little, if you please, 
and let Uncle Jack in for the holidays. I am coming with such a 
trunk full of treasures that you’ll have to borrow the stockings of 
Barnum’s Giant and Giantess; I am coming to squeeze a certain little 
lady-bird until she cries for mercy; I am coming to see if I can find a 
boy to take care of a little black pony I bought lately. It’s the 
strangest thing I ever knew; I’ve hunted all over Europe, and can’t 
find a boy to suit me! I’ll tell you why. I’ve set my heart on finding 
one with a dimple in his chin, because this pony particularly likes 
dimples!' [‘Hurrah!’ cried Hugh; ‘bless my dear dimple; I’ll never 
be ashamed of it again.’] Please drop a note to the clerk of the 
weather, and have a good, rousing snow-storm — say on the twenty- 
second. None of your meek, gentle, nonsensical, shilly-shallying 
snow-storms; not the sort where the flakes float lazily down from the 
sky as if they didn’t care whether they ever got here or not, and then 
melt away as soon as they touch the earth, but a regular business-like 
whizzing, whirring, blurring, cutting snow-storm, warranted to freeze 
and stay on! 

I should like rather a LAKGE Christmas tree, if it’s convenient— 
not one of those ‘ sprigs, ’ five or six feet high, that you used to have 
three or four years ago, when the birdlings were not fairly feathered 
out, but a tree of some size. Set it up in the garret, if necessary, and 


2G The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 

then we can cut a hole in the roof if the tree chances to be too high 
for the room. 

Tell Bridget to begin to fatten a turkey. Tell her by the tv/en- 
tieth of December that turkey must not be able to stand on xts legs for 
fat, and then on the next three days she must allow it to recline easily 
on its side, and stuff it to bursting. ( One ounce of stuffing before- 
hand is worth a pound afterwards. ) 

The pudding must be unusually huge, and darkly, deeply, lugubri- 
ously black in color. It must be stuck so full of plums that the pud- 
ding itself will ooze out into the pan and not be brought on to the 
table at all. I expect to be there by the twentieth, to manage these 
little things — remembering it is the early Bird that catches the worm 
• — but give you the instructions in case I should be delayed. 

And Carol must decide on the size of the tree — she knows best, she 
was a Christmas child; and she must plead for the snow-storm — the 
‘clerk of the weather’ may pay some attention to her; and she must 
look up the boy with the dimple for me — she’s likelier to find him 
than I am, this minute. She must advise about the turkey, and Bridget 
must bring the pudding to her bedside and let her drop every separate 
plum into it and stir it once for luck, or ITl not eat a single slice — for 
Carol is the dearest part of Christmas to Uncle Jack, and he’ll have 
none of it without her . She is better than all the turkeys and pud- 
dings and apples and spare-ribs and wreaths and garlands and mis- 
tletoe and stockings and chimneys and sleigh-bells in Christendom. 
She is the very sweetest Christmas Carol that was ever written, said, 
sung or chanted, and I am coming, as fast as ships and railway trains 
can carry me, to tell her so.” 

Carol’s joy knew no bounds. Mr. and Mrs. Bird 
laughed like children and kissed each other for sheer 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


27 


delight, and when the boys heard it they simply 
whooped like wild Indians, until the Buggies family, 
whose back yard joined their garden, gathered at the 
door and wondered what was ‘‘up” in the big house. 


IV. 


“bibds of a feather flock together.” 

OLE Jack did really come on the twentieth. 
He was not detained by business, nor did 
he get left behind nor snowed up, as fre- 
quently happens in stories, and in real life too, I am 
afraid The snow-storm came also; and the turkey 
nearly died a natural and premature death from over- 
eating. Donald came, too; Donald, with a line of 
down upon his upper, lip, and Greek and Latin on 
his tongue, and stores of knowledge in his handsome 
head, and stories — bless me, you couldn’t turn over 
a chip without reminding Donald of something that 
happened ‘‘ at College.” One or the other was always 
at Carol’s bedside, for they fancied her paler than 
she used to be, and they could not bear her out of 
sight. It was Uncle Jack, though, who sat beside 
her in the winter twilights. The room was quiet, 
and almost dark, save for the snow-light outside, 
and the flickering flame of the Are, that danced over 



The Bikds’ Christmas Carol. 


29 


tlie “^Sleeping Beauty’s” face, and touclied the Fair 
One’s golden locks with ruddier glory. Carol’s hand 
(all too thin and white these latter days) lay close 
clasped in Uncle Jack’s, and they talked together 
quietly of many, many things. want to tell you 

all about my plans for Christmas this year. Uncle 
Jack,” said Carol, on the first evening of his visit,. 
^ ‘ because it will be the loveliest one I ever had. The 
boys laugh at me for caring so much about it; but it 
isn’t altogether because it is Christmas nor because 
it is my birthday; but long, long ago, when I first 
began to be ill, I used to think, the first thing when 
I waked on Christmas morning, ‘To-day is Christ’s 

birthday and mine!' I did not put the words 

close together; because that made it seem too bold; 
but I first thought, ‘ Christ’s birthday, ’ and then, in 

a minute, softly to myself ‘ and mine I ’ ‘ Christ’s 

birthday — - and mine 1 ’ And so I do not quite 
feel about Christmas as other girls do. Mama says 
she supposes that ever so many other children have 
been born on that day. I often wonder where they 
are. Uncle Jack, and whether it is a dear thought to 
them, too, or whether I am so much in bed, and so 
often alone, that it means more to me. Oh, I do hope 


30 


The Bibds’ Christmas Carol 


that none of them are poor, or cold, or hungry; and I 
wish, I wish they were all as happy as I, because they 
are my little brothers and sisters. Now, Uncle Jack, 
dear, I am going to try and make somebody happy 
every single Christmas that I live, and this year it is 
to be the ‘ Euggleses in the rear.’ ” 

“That large and interesting brood of children in 
the little house at the end of the back garden ? ’ 

“Yes; isn’t it nice to see so many together? We 
ought to call them the Buggies children, of course; 
but Donald began talking of them as the ‘ Buggleses 
in the rear,’ and Papa and Mama took it up, and now 
we cannot seem to help it. The house was built for 
Mr. Carter’s coachman, but Mr. Carter lives in Europe, 
and the gentleman who rents his place doesn’t care 
what happens to it, and so this poor Irish family came 
to live there When they first moved in, I used to sit 
in my window and Vvatch them i)lay in their backyard; 
they are so strong, and jolly, and good-natured; and 
then, one day, I had a terrible headache, and Donald 
asked them if they would please not scream quite so 
loud, and they explained that they were having a game 
of circus, but that they would change and play ‘ Deaf 
and Dumb Bchool’ all the afternoon.’ 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


31 


‘Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Uncle Jack, “what an oblig- 
ing family, to be sure.” 

“Yes, we all thought it very funny, and I smiled at 
them from the window when I was well enough to be 
up again. Now, Sarah Maud comes to her door when 
the children come home from school, and if Mama 
nods her head, ‘Yes,’ that means ‘ Carol is very well,’ 
and then you ought to hear the little Buggleses yell 
— I believe they try to see how much noise they can 
make; but if Mama shakes her head, ‘No,’ they always 
play at quiet games. Then, one day, ‘ Cary,’ my pet 
canary, flew out of her cage, and Peter Buggies caught 
her and brought her back, and I had him up here in 
my room to thank him.” 

“Is Peter the oldest?” 

“No; Sarah Maud is the oldest — she helps do the 
washing; and Peter is the next. He is a dressmaker’s 
boy.” 

“ And which is the pretty little red-haired girl ? ” 

“ That’s Kitty.” 

“ And the fat youngster ? ” 

“Baby Larry.” 

‘ ‘ And that freckled one ? ” 

“Now, don’t laugh — that’s Peoria!” 


The Bieds’ Christmas Carol. 


Carol, you are joking.” 

“No, really, Uncle dear. Slie was born in Peoria; 
that’s all.” 

“And is the next boy Oshkosh ? ” 

“No,” laughed Carol, “the others are Susan, and 
Clement, and Eily, and Cornelius.” 

‘ ‘ How did you ever learn all their names ? ” 

“Well, I have what I call a ‘window-school.’ It is 
too cold now; but in warm weather I am wheeled out 
on my little balcony, and the Ruggleses climb up and 
walk along our garden fence, and sit down on the roof 
of our carriage-house. That brings them quite near, 
and I read to them and tell them stories;. On Thanks- 
giving Day they came up for a few minutes, it was 
quite warm at eleven o’clock, and we told each other 
what we had to be thankful for; but they gave such 
queer answers that Papa had to run away for fear of 
laughing; and I couldn’t understand them very well. 
Susan was thankful for ^ trunks^' of all things in the 
world; Cornelius, for ‘horse cars;’ Kitty, for ‘pork 
steak;’ while Clem, who is very quiet, brightened up 
when I came to him, and said he was thankful for ‘ his 
lame puppy."* Wasn’t that pretty ? ” 

“It might teach some of ms a lesson, mightn’t it, 
little girl ? ” 


The Bikds’ Cheistmas Carol. 


33 


“That’s what Mama said. Now I’m going to give 
this whole Christmas to the Bnggleses; and, Uncle 
Jack, I earned part of the money myself.” 

“You, my bird; how?” 

“ Well, you see, it could not be my own, own Christ- 
mas if Papa gave me all the money, and I thought to 
really keep Christ’s birthday I ought to do something 
of my very own; and so I talked with Mama. Of 
course she thought of something lovely; she always 
does; Mama’s head is just brimming over with lovely 
thoughts, and all I have to do is ask, and out pops the 
very one I want. This thought was, to let her write 
down, just as I told her, a description of how a little 
girl lived in her own room three years, and what she 
did to amuse herself ; and we sent it to a magazine and 
got twenty-five dollars for it. Just think! ” 

“Well, well,” cried Uncle Jack, “my little girl a 
real author ! And what are you going to do with this 
wonderful ‘ own ’ money of yours ? ” 

“I shall give the nine Buggleses a grand Christmas 
dinner here in this very room — that will be Papa’s con- 
tribution, and afterwards a beautiful Christmas tree, 
fairly blooming with presents — that will be my part; 
for I have another way of adding to my twenty-five 


34 


The Birds’ Christma^s Carol. 


dollars, so that I can buy everything I like. I should 
like it very much if you would sit at the head of the 
table, Uncle Jack, for nobody could ever be fright- 
ened of you, you dearest, dearest, dearest thing that 
ever was ! Mama is going to help us, but Papa and the 
boys are going to eat together do^vn stairs foh fear 
of making the little Ruggleses shy; and after we’ve had 
a merry time with the tree we can open my window and 
all listen together to the music at the evening church- 
service, if it comes before the children go. I have 
written a letter to the organist, and asked him if I 
might have the two songs 1 like best. Will you see if 
it is all right ? ” 

“Bikds’ Nest, Dec. 21st, 188 — . 

Deae Mr. Wilkie, — I am the little sick girl who lives next door to 
the church, and, as T seldom go out, the music on practice days and 
Sundays is one of my greatest pleasures. 

I want to know if you can let the boys sing ‘ Carol, brothers, carol,’ 
on Christmas night, and if the one who sings ‘My ain countree’ so 
beautifully may please sing that too. I think it is the loveliest song 
in the world, but it always makes me cry; does’nt it you ? 

If it isn’t too much trouble, I hope they can sing them both quite 
early, as after ten o’clock I may be asleep. — Yours respectfully, 

Carol Bird. 

P.S. — The reason I like ‘Carol, brothers, carol,’ is because the 
choir-boys sang it eleven years ago, the morning I was born, and put it 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


35 


into Mama’s head to call me Carol. She didn’t remember then that 
other name would be Bird, because she was half asleep, and 
couldn’t think of but one thing at a time. Donald says if I had been 
born on the Fourth of July they would have named me ‘Independ- 
ence, ’ or if on the twenty-second of February, ‘ Georgina, ’ or even 
‘ Cherry,’ like Cherry in Martin Chuzzlewit; but I like my own name 
and birthday best. — Yours truly, 

Cabol Bibd.” 

Uncle Jack thought the letter quite right, and did 
not even smile at her telling the organist so many 
family items. The days flew by, as they always fly in 
holiday time, and it was Christmas eve before anybody 
knew it. The family festival was quiet and very 
pleasant, but quite swallowed up in the grander pre- 
parations for next day. Carol and Elfrida, her pretty 
German nurse, had ransacked books, and introduced 
so many plans, and plays, and customs and merry- 
makings from Germany, and Holland, and England and 
a dozen other places, that you would scarcely have 
known how or where you were keeping Christmas. 
The dog and the cat had enjoyed their celebration 
under Carol’s direction. Each had a tiny table with a 
lighted candle in the center, and a bit of Bologna 
sausage placed very near it, and everybody laughed 
till the tears stood in their eyes to see Yillikins and 


36 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


Dinah struggle to nibble the sausages, and at the same 
time evade the candle flame. Yillikins barked, and 
sniffed, and howled in impatience, and after many vain 
attempts succeeded in dragging off the prize, though 
he singed his nose in doing it. Dinah, meanwhile, 
watched him placidly, her delicate nostrils quivering 
with expectation, and, after all excitement had sub- 
sided, walked with dignity to the table, her beautiful 
gray satin trail sweeping behind her, and, calmly 
putting up one velvet paw, drew the sausage gently 
down, and walked out of the room without ‘ ‘ turning a 
hair,” so to speak. Elfrida had scattered handfuls of 
seeds over the snow in the garden, that the wild birds 
might have a comfortable breakfast next; morning, and 
had stuffed bundles of dried grasses in the fireplaces, 
so that the reindeer of Santa Claus could refresh them- 
selves after their long gallops across country. This 
was really only done for fun, but it pleased Carol. 

And when, after dinner, the whole family had gone 
to church to see the Christmas decorations, Carol 
limped wearily out on her little crutches, and, with 
Elfrida’s help, placed all the family boots in a row in 
the upper hall. That was to keep the dear ones from 
quarreling all through the year. There were Papa’s 


The Bieds’ Chkistmas Carol. 


37 


stout top boots; Mama’s pretty buttoned shoes next; 
then Uncle Jack’s, Donald’s, Paul’s and Hugh’s; and 
at the end of the line her own little white worsted 
slippers. Last, and sweetest of all, like the little 
children in Austria, she put a lighted candle in her 
window to guide the dear Christ-child, lest he should 
stumble in the dark night as he passed up the deserted 
street. This done, she dropped into bed, a rather 
tired, but very happy Christmas fairy. 


y. 


SOME OTHER BIRDS ARE TAUGHT TO ELY. 



iilCFOEE tlie earliest Buggies could wake and 
toot liis five-cent tin liorn, Mrs. Buggies was 
up and stirring about the bouse, for it was a 
gala day in tlie family. Gala day ! I should think so ! 
Were not her nine ‘ ^ childern ” invited to a dinner-party 
at the great house, and weren’t they going to sit down 
free and equal with the mightiest in the land ? She 
had been preparing for this grand occasion ever since 
the receipt of the invitation, which, by the way, had 
been speedily enshrined in an old photograph frame 
and hung under the looking-glass in the most promi- 
nent place in the kitchen, where it stared the occasional 
visitor directly in the eye, and made him pale with 
envy: 


“ Birds’ Nest, Dec. 17th, 188 — . 

Dear Mrs. Buggles,— I am going to have a dinner-party on Christ- 
mas day, and would like to have all your children come. I wantthem 
every one, please, from Sarah Maud to Baby Larry. Mama says 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


39 


dinner will be at half-past five, and the Christmas tree at seven; so you 
may expect them home at nine o’clock. Wishing you a Merry Christ- 
mas and a Happy New Year, I am, yours truly, 

Carol Bird.” 

Breakfast was on tlie table promptly at seven o’clock, 
and tliere was very little of it, too; for it was an excel- 
lent day for short rations, though Mrs. Buggies heaved 
a sigh as she reflected that even the boys, with their 
India-rubber stomachs, would be just as hungry the 
day after the dinner-party as if they had never had any 
at all. 

As soon as the scanty meal was over, she announced 
the plan of the campaign : ‘ ‘ Now Susan, you an’ Kitty 
wash up the dishes ; an’ Peter, can’t you spread up the 
beds, so’t I can git ter cuttin’ out Larry’s new suit ? I 
aint satisfied with his close, an’ I thought in the night 
of a way to make him a dress out of my old plaid 
shawl — ^kind o’ Scotch style, yer know. You other 
boys clear out from under foot ! Clem, you and Con 
hop into bed with Larry while I wash yer underflannins ; 
’twont take long to dry ’em. Sarah Maud, I think 
’twould be perfeckly han’som if you ripped them brass 
buttons off yer uncle’s policeman’s coat an’ sewed ’em 
in a row up the front o’ yer green skirt. Susan, you 


40 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


must iron out yours an’ Kitty’s apurns; an’ there, I 
came mighty near forgettin’ Peory’s stockin’s! I 
counted the whole lot last night when I was washin’ of 
’em, an’ there aint but nineteen anyhow yer fix ’em, an’ 
no nine pairs mates nohow; an’ I aint goin’ ter have 
my childern wear odd stockin’s to a dinner-comp’ny, 
brought up as I was ! Eily, can’t you run out and ask 
Mis’ Cullen ter lend me a pair o’ stockin’s for Peory, 
an tell her if she will, Peory ’ll give Jim half her candy 
when she gets home. Wont yer, Peory?” 

Peoria was young and greedy, and thought the rem- 
edy so much worse than the disease that she set up a 
deafening howl at the projected bargain — a howl so 
rebellious and so out of all season that her mother 
started in her direction with hashing eye and uplifted 
hand; but she let it fall suddenly, saying, ‘‘No, I wont 
lick ye Christmas day, if yer drive me crazy; but speak 
up smart, now, ’n say whether yer’d ruther give Tim 
Cullen half yer candy or go bare-legged ter the party ? ” 
The matter being put so plainly, Peoria collected her 
faculties, dried her tears and chose the lesser evil, 
Clem having hastened the decision by an affectionate 
wink, that meant he’d go halves with her on his candy. 

“That’s a lady;” cried her mother. “Now, you 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


41 


young ones that aint doin’ nothin’, play all yer want ter 
before noontime, for after ye git through eatin’ at 
twelve o’clock me ’n Sarah Maud’s goin’ ter give yer 
such a washin’ an’ combin’ an’ dressin’ as yer never had 
before an’ never will agin, an’ then I’m goin to set yer 
down an’ give yer two solid hours trainin’ in manners; 
an’ ’twont be no foolin’ neither.” 

‘ ‘ All we’ve got ter do ’s go eat ! ” grumbled Peter. 

“"Well, that’s enough,” responded his mother; 
‘there’s more ’n one way of eatin’, let me tell yer, an’ 
you’ve got a heap ter learn about it, Peter Buggies. 
Lord sakes, I wish you childern could see the way I 
w^as fetched up to eat — never took a meal o’ vittles in 
the kitchen before I married Buggies; but yer can’t 
keep up that style with nine young ones ’n yer Pa 
always off ter sea.” 

The big Buggleses worked so well, and the little 
Buggleses kept from under foot ” so successfully, 
that by one o’clock nine complete toilets were laid 
out in solemn grandeur on the beds. I say, ‘^com- 
plete;” but T do not know whether they would be 
called so in the best society. The law of compen- 
sation had been well applied; he that had necktie 
had no cuffs; she that had sash had no handkerchief. 


42 


The Bikds’ Chkistmas Carol. 


and vice versa ; but they all bad boots and a certain 
amount of clothing, such as it was, the outside layer 
being in every case quite above criticism. 

‘‘Now, Sarah Maud,” said Mrs. Buggies, her face 
shining with excitement, “everything is red up an’ we 
can begin. I’ve got a boiler ’n a kettle ’n a pot o’ hot 
water. Peter, you go into the back bedroom, an’ I’ll 
take Susan, Kitty, Peory an’ Cornelius; an’ Sarah 
Maud, you take Clem, n’ Eily, n’ Larry, one to a time, 
an’ git as fur as you can with ’em, an’ then I’ll finisli 
’em off while you do yerself.” 

Sarah Maud couldn’t have scrubbed with any more 
decision and force if she had been doing floors, and 
the’ little Buggleses bore it bravely, not from natural 
heroism, but for the joy that was set before them. 
Not being satisfied, however, with the “tone” of their 
complexions, she wound up operations by applying a 
little Bristol brick from the Imife-board, which served 
as the proverbial “last straw,” from under which the 
little Buggleses issued rather red and raw and out of 
temper. When the clock struck three they were all 
clothed, and most of them in their right minds, ready 
for those last touches that always take the most time. 
Kitty’s red hair was curled in thirty-four ringlets. 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


43 


Sarah Maud’s was braided in one pig-tail, and Susan’s 
and Eily’s in two braids apiece, while Peoria’s resisted 
all advances in the shape of hair oils and stuck out 
straight on all sides, like that of the Circassian girl of 
the circus — so Clem said; and he was sent into the 
bed-room for it too, from v/hence he was dragged out 
forgivingly by Peoria herself, five minutes later. Then 
— exciting moment — came linen collars for some and 
neckties and bows for others, and Eureka ! the Buggles- 
es were dressed, and Solomon in all his glory was not 
arrayed like one of these ! A row of seats was formed 
directly through the middle of the kitchen. There 
were not quite chairs enough for ten, since the family 
had rarely all wanted to sit down at once, sombody 
always being out, or in bed, but the wood box and the 
coal-hod finished out the line nicely. The children 
took their places according to age, Sarah Maud at the 
head and Larry on the coal-hod, and Mrs. Buggies 
seated herself in front, surveying them proudly as she 
wiped the sweat of honest toil from her brow. 

Well,” she exclaimed, “ if I do say so as shouldn’t, 
I never see a cleaner, more stylish mess o’ childern in 
my life ! I do wish Buggies could look at ye for a 
minute! Now, I’ve of ’en told ye what kind of a fam- 


44 


The Bikds’ Christmas Carol. 


ily the McGrills was. I’ve got some reason to be proud; 
your uncle is on the po-lice force o’ New York city; 
you can take up the newspaper most any day an’ see 
his name printed right out — James McGrill, and I can’t 
have my childern fetched up common, like some folks. 
"When they go out they’ve got to have close, and learn 
ter act decent! Now, I want ter see how yer goin’ to 
behave when yer git there to-night. Lets start in at 
the beginnin’ ’n act out the whole business. Pile into 
the bed-room, there, every last one of ye, an’ show me 
how yer goin’ ter go in’t the parlor. This’ll be the 
parlor ’n I’ll be Mis’ Bird.” The youngsters hustled 
into the next room in high glee, and Mrs. Buggies 
drew herself up in her chair with an infinitely haughty 
and purse-proud expression that much better suited a 
descendant of the McGrills than modest Mrs. Bird. 
The bed-room was small, and there presently ensued 
such a clatter that you would have thought a herd of 
wild cattle had broken loose; the door opened, and 
they straggled in, all the little ones giggling, with 
Sarah Maud at the head, looking as if she had been 
caught in the act of stealing sheep; while Larry, being 
last in line, seemed to think the door a sort of gate of 
heaven which would be shut in his face if he didn’t get 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


45 


there in time ; accordingly lie struggled ahead of his 
elders and disgraced himself by tumbling in head fore- 
most. 

Mrs. Buggies looked severe. “There, I knew yer’d 
do it in some sech fool-way, — try it agin ’n if Larry 
can’t come in on two legs he can stay ter home !” 

The matter began to assume a graver aspect; the lit- 
tle Buggleses stopped giggling and backed into the 
bed-room, issuing presently with lock step, Indian file, 
a scared and hunted expression in every countenance. 

“No, no, no!” cried Mrs. Buggies, in despair; “ Yer 
look for all the w'orld like a gang o’ pris’ners; there 
aint no style ter that; spread out more, can’t yer, an’ 
act kind o’ careless like — nobody’s goin’ ter kill ye 1” 
The third time brought deserved success, and the 
pupils took their seats in the row. “ Now, yer know,” 
said Mrs. Buggies, “there aint enough decent hats to 
go round, an’ if there was I don’ know ’s I’d let yer 
wear ’em, for the boys would never think to take ’em 
off when they got inside — ^but, anyhow, there aint 
enough good ones. Now, look me in the eye„ You 
need’nt wear no hats, none of yer, an’ when yer get inf 
the parlor ’n they ask yer ter lay off yer hats, Sarah 
Maud must speak up an’ say it was sech a pleasant 


46 The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 

evenin’ an’ secli a short walk that you left yer hats to 
home to save trouble. Now, can you remember ? 

All the little Kuggleses shouted, “Yes, marm,” in 
chorus. 

“ What have you got ter do with it,” demanded their 
mother; “ did I tell you to say it! Wasn’t I talkin’ ter 
Sarah Maud ? ” The little Buggleses hung their di- 
minished heads. “Yes, marm,” they piped, more 
feebly. “Now git up, all of ye, an’ try it. Speak up, 
Sarah Maud.” 

Sarah Maud’s tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. 

“ Quick! ” 

‘ ^ Ma thought — it was — sech a pleasant hat that we’d 
—we’d better leave our short walk to home, ” recited 
Sarah Maud, in an agony of mental effort. 

This was too much for the boys. 

“Oh, whatever shall I do with ye ?” moaned the un- 
happy mother; “ 1 suppose I’ve got to learn it to yer!’’ 
which she did, word for word, until Sarah Maud 
thought she could stand on her head and say it back- 
wards. 

“Now, Cornelius, what are you goin’ ter say ter 
make yerself good comp’ny ?” 

“Dunno!” said Cornelius, turning pale. 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


47 


“Well, je ain’t goin’ to set there like a bump on a 
log ’tliout sayin’ a word ter pay for yer vittles, air 
ye ? Ask Mis’ Bird how she’s feelin’ this evenin’, or if 
Mr. Bird’s havin’ a busy season, or somethin’ like that. 
Now we’ll make b’lieve we’ve got ter the dinner — that 
won’t be so hard, ’cause yeFll have somethin’ to do — its 
awful bothersome ter stan’ round an’ act stylish. If 
they have napkins, Sarah Maud down to Peory may 
put ’em in their laps ’n the rest of ye can tuck ’em in 
yer necks. Don’t eat with yer fingers — don’t grab no 
vittles off one ’nothers plates; don’t reach out for 
nothin’, but wait till yer asked, ’n if yer never git asked 
don’t git up and grab it — don’t spill nothin’ on the 
table cloth, or like’s not Mis’ Bird ’ll send yer away 
from the table. Now we’ll try a few things ter see 
how they’ll ^o! Mr. Clement, do you eat cramb’ry 
sarse ?” 

“Bet yer life!” cried Clem, who, not having taken in 
the idea exactly, had mistaken this for an ordinary fam- 
ily question. 

“Clement Buggies, do you mean to tell me that 
you’d say that to a dinner party ? I’ll give ye one more 
chance. Mr. Clement, will you take some of the cram- 
b’ry?” 


48 


The Bieds’ Christmas Carol. 


‘‘Yes marm, thank ye kindly, if you happen ter 
have any handy.” 

“Very good, indeed! Mr. Peter, do you speak for 
white or dark meat ?” 

‘ ‘ I ain’t particler as ter color — anything that nobody 
else wants will suit me,” answered Peter with his best 
air. 

“ Pirst rate 1 nobody could speak more genteel than 
that. Miss Kitty, will you have hard or soft sarse with 
your pudden ?” 

“A little of both if you please, an’ I’m much 
obliged,” said Kitty with decided ease and grace, at 
which all the other Kuggleses pointed the finger of 
shame at her and Peter grunted expressively, that their 
meaning might not be mistaken. 

“You just stop your gruntin’, Peter Buggies; that 
was all right. I wish I could git it inter your heads 
that it aint so much what yer say, as the way yer say it. 
Eily, you an’ Larry’s too little to train, so you just look 
at the rest, an’ do ’s they do, an’ the Lord have mercy 
on ye an’ help ye to act decent 1 Now, is there anything 
more ye’d like to practice ? ” 

‘ ‘ If yer tell me one more thing I can’t set up an’ 
eat,” said Peter, gloomily; “I’m so cram full o’ man- 
ners now I’m ready ter bust ’thout no dinner at all.” 


The Bikds’ Christmas Carol. 


49 


“ Me too,” chimed in Cornelius. 

‘‘Well, I’m sorry for yer both,” rejoined Mrs. Bug- 
gies, sarcastically; “if the ’mount o’ manners yer’ve 
got on hand now, troubles ye, you’re dreadful easy hurt ! 
Now, Sarah Maud, after dinner, about once in so 
often, you must say, ‘I guess we’d better be goin’;’ an’ 
if they say, ‘ Oh, no, set a while longer,’ yer can stay; 
but if they don’t say nothin’ you’ve got ter get up an’ 
go. Can you remember ? ” 

About once in so often Could any words in the 
language be fraught with more terrible and wearing 
uncertainty ? 

“Well,” answered Sarah Maud, mournfully, “seems 
as if this whole dinner party set right square on top o’ 
me ! Maybe I could manage my own manners, but ter 
manage nine mannerses is worse ’n staying to home ! ” 

“Oh, don’t fret,” said her mother, good naturedly, 
“I guess you’ll git along. I wouldn’t mind if folks 
would only say, ‘Oh, childern will be childern;’ but 
they won’t. They’ll say, ‘Land o’ Goodness, who 
fetched them childern up ? ’ Now its quarter past five; 
you can go, an’ whatever yer do, don’t forget your 
mother was a McGrill ! ” 


VI. 


“WHEN THE PIE WAS OPENED, 
THE BIEDS BEGAN TO SING!” 


HE children went out the back door quietly, 
and were presently lost to sight, Sarah Maud 
slipping and stumbling along absent-mind- 
edly as she recited, under her breath, ‘ ‘ It-was-such-a 
pleasant- evenin’- an- sech-a-short-walk-we-thought- 



we’d-leave-our-hats-to-home. ” 

I eter rang the door bell, and presently a servant ad- 
mitted them, and, whispering something in Sarah’s 
ear, drew her downstairs into the kitchen. The other 
Euggleses stood in horror-stricken groups as the door 
closed behind their commanding officer; but there was 
no time for reflection, for a voice from above was 
heard, saying, “Come right up stairs, please!” 


“ Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs bnt to do or die.” 


Accordingly, they walked upstairs, and Elfrida, the 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 51 

nurse, ushered them into a room more splendid than 
anything they had ever seen. But, oh woe ! where was 
Sarah Maud ! and was it Fate that Mrs. Bird should 
say, at once, “Did you lay your hats in the hall?” 
Peter felt himself elected by circumstance the head of 
the family, and, casting one imploring look at tongue- 
tied Susan, standing next him, said huskily, “It was 

so very pleasant — that — that ” “That we hadn’t 

good hats enough to go round,” put in little Susan, 
bravely, to help him out, and then froze with horror 
that the ill-fated words had slipped off her tongue. 

However, Mrs. Bird said, pleasantly, “Of course 
you wouldn’t wear hats such a short distance — I forgot 
when I asked. Now, will you come right in to Miss 
Carol’s room, she is so anxious to see you ? ” 

Just then Sarah Maud came up the back-stains, so 
radiant with joy from her secret interview with the 
cook, that Peter could have pinched her with a clear 
conscience, and Carol gave them a joyful welcome. 

‘ ‘ But where is Baby Larry ? ” she cried, looking over 
the group with searching eye. “ Didn’t he come ? ” 

‘ ‘ Larry ! Larry ! ” Good Gracious, where was Larry ? 
They were all sure that he had come in with them, for * 
Susan remembered scolding him for tripping over the 


52 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol.’ 


door-mat. Jack went into convulsions of laugli- 

ter. ‘ ‘ Are you sure there were nine of you ? ” he 
asked, merrily. 

“I think so, sir,” said Peoria, timidly; ‘^but, any- 
how, there was Larry;” and she showed signs of weep- 
ing. 

‘‘Oh, well, cheer up!” cried Uncle Jack. “I 
guess he’s not lost — only mislaid. I’ll go and find him 
before you can say Jack Bobinson! ” 

“I’ll go, too, if you please, sir,” said Sarah Maud, 
“for it was my place to mind him, an’ if he’s lost I 
can’t relish my vittles ! ” 

The other Euggleses stood rooted to the floor. Was 
this a dinner party, forsooth; and, if so, why were such 
things ever spoken of as festive occasions ? 

Sarah Maud went out through the hall, calling, 

‘ ‘ Larry ! Larry ! ” and without any interval of sus- 
pense a thin voice piped up from below, “ Here I be! ” 
The truth was that Larry, being deserted by his natural 
guardian, dropped behind the rest, and wriggled into 
the hat-tree to wait for her, having no notion of walk- 
ing unprotected into the jaws of a dinner-party. Bind- 
ing that she did not come, he tried to crawl from his 
refuge and call somebody, when — dark and dreadful 


The Eieds' Cheistmas Caeol. 


53 


ending to a tragic day — lie found that he was too much 
intertwined with umbrellas and canes to move a single 
step. He was afraid to yell! When I have said this 
of Larry Buggies I have pictured a state of helples^ 
terror that ought to wring tears from every eye; and 
the sound of Sarah Maud’s beloved voice, some seconds 
later, was like a strain of angel music in his ears. 
Uncle Jack dried his tears, carried him upstairs, and 
soon had him in breathless fits of laughter, while Carol 
so made the other Buggleses forget themselves that they 
were soon talking like accomplished diners-out. 

Carol’s bed had been moved into the farthest corner 
of the room, and she was lying on the outside, dressed 
in a wonderful soft white wrapper. Her golden hair 
fell in soft fluffy curls over her white forehead and 
neck, her cheeks flushed delicately, her eyes beamed 
with joy, and the children told their mother, after- 
wards, that she looked as beautiful as the pictures of 
the Blessed Virgin. There was great bustle behind a 
huge screen in another part of the room, and at half- 
past five this was taken away, and the Christmas dinner- 
table stood revealed. What a wonderful sight it was 
to the poor little Buggies children, who ate their some- 
times scanty meals on the kitchen table! It blazed 


54 The Bieds’ Chkistmas Caeol. 

with tall colored candles, it gleamed with glass and 
silver, it blushed with flowers, it groaned with good 
things to eat; so it was not strange that the Bug- 
gleses, forgetting that their mother was a McGrill, 
shrieked in admiration of the fairy spectacle. But 
Larry’s behavior was the most disgraceful, for he 
stood not upon the order of his going, but went at 
once for a high chair that pointed unmistakably to him, 
climbed up like a squirrel, gave a comprehensive look 
at the turkey, clapped his hands in ecstacy, rested his 
fat arms on the table, and cried, with joy, beat the 
hull lot o’ yer ! ” Carol laughed until she cried, giving 
orders, meanwhile, Uncle Jack, please sit at the 
head, Sarah Maud at the foot, and that will leave four 
on each side; Mama is going to help Elfrida, so that 
the children need not look after each other, but just 
have a good time.” 

A sprig of holly lay by each plate, and nothing 
would do but each little Buggies must leave his 
seat and have it pinned on by Carol, and as each 
course was served one of them pleaded to take some- 
thing to her. There was hurrying to and fro, I 
can assure you, for it is quite a difficult matter to serve 
a Christmas dinner on the third floor of a great city 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 55 

house ; but if every disli had had to be carried up a rope 
ladder the servants would gladly have done so. There 
was turkey and chicken, with delicious gravy and stuff- 
ing, and there were half-a-dozen vegetables, with cran- 
berry jelly, and celery, and pickles; and as for the 
way these delicacies were served, the Buggleses never 
forgot it as long as they lived. 

Peter nudged Kitty, who sat next him, and said, 

‘ ^ Look, will yer, ev’ry feller’s got his own partic’lar 
butter; I suppose that’s to show yer can eat that much 
’n no more. No, it ain’t neither, for that pig of a 
Peory’s just gittin’ another helpin ! ” ‘‘ Yes,” whisper- 

ed Kitty, “an’ the napkins is marked with big red 
letters. I wonder if that’s so nobody ’ll nip ’em; an’ 
oh, Peter, look at the pictures painted right on ter the 
dishes. Did yer ever! ” 

‘‘ The plums is all took out o’ my cramb’ry sarse, an’ 
it’s friz to a stiff jell! ” shouted Peoria, in wild excite- 
ment. 

“ Hi — ^yah ! I got a wish-bone ! ” sung Larry, regard- 
less of Sarah Maud’s frown; after which she asked to 
have his seat changed, giving as excuse that he gen’ally 
set beside her, an’ would “feel strange;” the true 
reason being that she desired to kick him gently, under 


56 


The Bikds’ Chkistmas Cabol. 


the table, whenever he passed what might be termed 
‘‘theMcGrill line.” 

“I declare to goodness,^’ murmured Susan, on the 
other side, ‘‘there’s so much to look at I can’t scarcely 
eat nothin ! ” 

“Bet yer life I can!” said Peter, who had kept one 
servant busily employed ever since he sat down; for, 
luckily, no one was asked by Uncle Jack whether he 
would have a second helping, but the dishes were 
quietly passed under their noses, and not a single 
Buggies refused anything that was offered him, even 
unto the seventh time. Then, when Carol and Uncle 
Jack perceived that more turkey was a physical im- 
possibility, the meats were taken off and the dessert 
was brought in — a dessert that would have frightened 
a strong man after such a dinner as had preceded it. 
Not so the Buggleses — for a strong man is nothing to a 
small boy — and they kindled to the dessert as if the 
turkey had been a dream and the six vegetables an 
optical delusion. There was plum-pudding, mince- 
pie, and ice-cream, and there were nuts, and raisins, 
and oranges. Bitty chose ice-cream, explaining that 
she knew it “by sight,” but hadn’t never tasted none; 
but all the rest took the entire variety, without any 
regard to consequences. 


The Bieds’ Chkistmas Caeol. 


57 


‘‘My dear child,” whispered Uncle Jack, as he took 
Carol an orange, “there is no doubt about the neces- 
sity of this feast, but I do advise you after this to have 
them twice a year, or quarterly, perhaps, for the way 
they eat is positively dangerous ; I assure you I tremble 
for that terrible Peoria. I’m going to run races with 
her after dinner.” 

“Never mind,” laughed Carol, “let them eat for 
once; it does my heart good to see them, and they shall 
come oftener next year.” 

The feast being over, the Buggleses lay back in 
their chairs languidly, and the table was cleared in a 
trice; then a door was opened into the next room, and 
there, in a corner facing Carol’s bed, which had been 
wheeled as close as possible, stood the brilliantly light- 
ed Christmas-tree, glittering with gilded walnuts and 
tiny silver balloons, and wreathed with snowy chains 
of pop-corn. The presents had been bought mostly 
with Carol’s story money, and were selected after long 
consultations with Mrs. Bird. Each girl had a blue 
knitted hood, and each boy a red crocheted comforter, 
all made by Mama, Carol andElfrida (“ because if you 
buy everything, it doesn’t show so much love,” said 
Carol). Then every girl had a pretty plaid dress of a 


58 


The Bikds’ Christmas Carol. 


different color, and every boy a warm coat of the right 
size. Here the useful presents stopped, and they were 
quite enough; but Carol had pleaded to give them 
something ‘‘ for fun. ” ‘ ‘ I know they need the clothes, ” 

she had said, when they were talking over the matter 
just after Thanksgiving, ‘‘but they don’t care much 
for them, after all. Now, Papa, won’t you please let 
me go without part of my presents this year, and give 
me the money they would cost, to buy something to 
amuse them ? ” 

“You can have both,” said Mr. Bird, promptly; “is 
there any need of my little girl’s going without her 
Christmas, I should like to know? Spend all the 
money you like.” 

“ But that isn’t the thing,” objected Carol, nestling 
close to her father; “it wouldn’t be mine. What is 
the use ? Haven’t I almost everything already, and am 
I not the happiest girl in the world this year, with Uncle 
Jack and Donald at home ? Now, Papa, you know very 
well it is more blessed to give than to receive ; then why 
won’t you let me do it? You never look half as happy 
when you are getting your presents as when you are 
giving us ours. Now, Papa, submit, or I shall have 
to be very firm and disagreeable with you ! ” 


The Bikds’ Chkistmas Carol. 


59 


‘‘Very well, your Highness, I surrender.” 

“ That’s a dear Papa! Now, what were you going to 
give me ? Confess 1 ” 

“A bronze figure of Santa Claus; and in the little 
round belly, that shakes, when he laughs, like a bowl 
full of jelly, is a wonderful clock. Oh, you would 
never give it up if you could see it.” 

“Nonsense,” laughed Carol; “ as I never have to get 
up to breakfast, nor go to bed, nor catch trains, I think 
my old clock will do very well! Now, Mama, what 
were you going to give me ? ” 

“ Oh, I hadn’t decided. A few more books, and a 
gold thimble, and a smelling-bottle, and a music-box.” 

“Poor Carol,” laughed the child, merrily, “ she can 
afibrd to give up these lovely things, for there will still 
be left Uncle Jack, and Donald, and Paul, and Hugh, 
and Uncle Kob, and Aunt Elsie, and a dozen other 
people.” 

So Carol had her way, as she generally did, but it 
was usually a good way, which was fortunate, under the 
circumstances; and Sarah Maud had a set of Miss 
Alcott’s books, and Peter a modest silver watch, Cor- 
nelius a tool-chest, Clement a dog-house for his “lame 
puppy,” Larry a magnificent Noah’s ark, and each of 


60 


The Bieds’ Cheistmas Caeol. 


the little girls a beautiful doll. You can well believe 
that everybody was very merry and very thankful. 
All the family, from Mr. Bird down to the cook, said 
they had never seen so much happiness in the space of 
three hours; but it had to end, as all things do. The 
candles flickered and went out, the tree was left alone 
with its gilded ornaments, and Mrs. Bird sent the 
children down stairs at half-past eight, thinking that 
Carol looked tired. 

“Now, my darling, you have done quite enough for 
one day,” said Mrs. Bird, getting Carol into her little 
night-dress; “ I am afraid you will feel worse to-mor- 
row, and that would be a sad ending to such a good 
time.” 

“ Oh, wasn’t it a lovely, lovely time,” sighed Carol. 
“ From flrst to last, everything was just right. I shall 
never forget Larry’s face when he looked at the turkey; 
nor Peter’s, when he saw his watch; nor that sweet, 
sweet Kitty’s smile when she kissed her dolly; nor the 
tears in poor, dull Sarah Maud’s eyes when she thanked 
ms for her books; nor ” 

“But we mustn’t talk any longer about it to-night,” 
said Mrs. Bird, anxiously; “you are too tired, dear.” 

“ I am not so very tired. Mama. I have felt well all 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


61 


day; not a bit of pain anywhere. Perhaps this has 
done me good.” 

‘^Perhaps; I hope so. There was no noise or con- 
fusion; it was just a merry time. Now, may I close 
the door and leave you alone ? I will steal in softly 
the first thing in the morning, and see if you are all 
right; but I think you need to be quiet.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I’m willing to stay alone ; but I am not sleepy 
yet, and I am going to hear the music by and by, you 
know.” 

‘‘Yes, I have opened the window a little, and put 
the screen in front of it, so that you will not feel the 
air.” 

“ Can I have the shutters open; and won’t you turn 
my bed a little, please ? This morning I woke ever so 
early, and one bright beautiful star shone in that 
eastern window. I never saw it before, and I thought 
of the Star in the East, that guided the wise men to the 
place where Jesus was. Good night. Mama. Such a 
happy, happy day!” - 

“Good night, my precious little Christmas Carol — 
mother’s blessed Christmas child.” 

“Bend your head a minute, mother dear,” whispered 
Carol, calling her mother back. “Mama, dear, I do 


62 


The Bieds’ Cheistmas Caeol. 


think that we have kept Christ’s birthday this time just 
as He would like it. Don’t you ? ” 

‘‘I am sure of it,” said Mrs. Bird, softly. 


VII. 


THE BIRDLING FLIES AWAY. 



HE Ruggleses had finished a last romp in the 
library with Paul and Hugh, and Uncle 
Jack had taken them home, and stayed a 
while to chat with Mrs. Kuggles, who opened the door 
for them, her face all aglow with excitement and de- 
light. "When Kitty and Clem showed her the oranges 
and nuts they had kept for her, she astonished them 
by saying that at six o’clock Mrs. Bird had sent her in 
the finest dinner she had ever seen in her life; and not 
only that, but a piece of dress-goods that must have 
cost a dollar a yard if it cost a cent. As Uncle Jack 
went down the little porch he looked back into the 
window for a last glimpse of the family, as the children 
gathered about their mother, showing their beautiful 
presents again and again, and then upward to a win- 
dow in the great house yonder. ‘‘A little child shall 
lead them,” he thought; ‘‘well, if if anything ever 


64 The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 

happens to Carol, I will take the Enggleses under my 
wing.” 

‘‘Softly, Uncle Jack,” whispered the boys, as he 
walked into the library a little while later; “We are 
listening to the music in the church. They sang ‘ Carol, 
brothers, carol,’ a while ago, and now we think the 
organist is beginning to play ‘ My ain countree ’ for 
Carol.” 

“I hope she hears it,” said Mrs. Bird; “but they 
are very late to-night, and I dare not speak to her lest 
she should be asleep. It is after ten o’clock ” 

The boy-soprano, clad in white surplice, stood in the 
organ loft. The lamps shone full upon his crown of 
fair hair, and his pale face, with its serious blue eyes, 
looked paler than usual. Perhaps it was something 
in the tender thrill of the voice, or in the sweet 
words, but there were tears in many eyes, both in the 
church and in the great house next door. 

“ I am far frae my hame, 

I am weary aften whiles 
For the langed for hame-bringin 
An’ my Faether’s welcome smiles; 

An’ I’ll ne’er be fu’ content, 

Until my e’en do see 
The gowden gates o’ heaven 
In my ain countree. 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


65 


The earth is decked wi’ flow’rs, 

Mony tinted, fresh an’ gay, 

An’ the birdies warble blythely, 

For my Faether made them sae; 

But these sights an’ these soun’s 
Will as naething be to me. 

When I hear the angels singin’ 

In my ain countree. 

Like a bairn to its mither. 

A wee birdie to its nest, 

I fain would be gangin’ noo 
Unto my Faether’s breast; 

For He gathers in His arms 

Helpless, worthless lambs like me, 

An’ carries them Himsel’ 

To His ain countree.” 

There were tears in many eyes, but not in Carol’s. 
The loving heart had quietly ceased to beat and the 
‘ ‘ wee birdie ” in the great house had flown to its 
‘‘home nest.” Carol had fallen asleep! But as to 
the song, I think perhaps, I cannot say, she heard it 
after all 1 

* * * * * * * * 

So sad an ending to a happy day! Perhaps — to 
those who were left — and yet Carol’s mother, even in 
the freshness of her grief, was glad that her darling 


66 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


had slipped away on the loveliest day of her life, out 
of its glad content, into everlasting peace. 

She was glad that she had gone, as she had come, 
on wings of song, when all the world was brimming 
over with joy; glad of every grateful smile, of every 
joyous burst of laughter, of every loving thought and 
word and deed the dear, last day had brought. 

Sadness reigned, it is true, in the little house behind 
the garden; and one day poor Sarah Maud, with a 
courage born of despair, threw on her hood and shawl, 
walked straight to a certain house a mile away, dashed 
up the marble steps and into good Dr. Bartol’s office, 
falling at his feet as she cried, “ Oh, sir, it was me an’ 
our childern that went to Miss Carol’s last dinner 
party, an’ if we made her worse we can’t never be 
happy again!” Then the kind old gentleman took 
her rough hand in his and told her to dry her tears, 
for neither she nor any of her flock had hastened Carol’s 
flight — indeed, he said that h^id it not been for the 
strong hopes and wishes that filled her tired heart, she 
could not have stayed long enough to keep that last 
merry Christmas with her dear ones. 

And so the old years, fraught with memories, die, 
one after another, and the new years, bright with 


The Birds’ Christmas Carol. 


67 


hopes, are born to take their places; but Carol lives 
again in every chime of Christmas bells that peal glad 
tidings and in every Christmas anthem sung by child- 
ish voices. 



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